


you are my sun

by keijuwu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bokuaka - Freeform, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M, Oblivious Bokuto Koutarou, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Owl Bokuto Koutarou, POV Akaashi Keiji, Snowball Fight, Tags Are Hard, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, they’re gay and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 13:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22611430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keijuwu/pseuds/keijuwu
Summary: If winter is peace and calm and quiet, Bokuto is more like summer. Boisterous, colorful, and bright as the sun — and even though Akaashi can say with confidence that he prefers the cold, Bokuto remains a steady and constant source of warmth in his life that he can never seem to mind much.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 17
Kudos: 98





	you are my sun

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first one shot i’m posting here, and i wrote it at like. 2 am. enjoy!!

Akaashi Keiji has never minded the cold.

In fact, he prefers it over the sweltering summertime, when everything is hazy with warmth and the only solace is his own air conditioned bedroom. One can only do so much to cool off, and the suffocating feeling of heat has never been a favorite of his.

Keiji prefers the cold for his own reasons.

He enjoys how invigorating it feels on the court, his own body heat and adrenaline combined with the crisp, fresh winter air drifting in through the open gymnasium doors making him feel invincible; the ball fits perfectly in his hand, and his sets are at their peak.

He enjoys the relief it brings when he steps out of the gym after yet another lengthy practice, the way it soothes the surface of his sweat-slicked skin as he makes his way home.

He even enjoys the look of freshly fallen snow; the blinding white that dusts nearly every surface, the gray hue that paints the sky in desaturation. To him, everything seems a little quieter, a little calmer.

Keiji enjoys nothing if not a bit of calm and quiet.

Of course, there is one exception to this simple preference, and it’s an ever-present Bokuto Koutarou.

If winter is peace and calm and quiet, Bokuto is more like summer. Boisterous, colorful, and bright as the sun — and even though Keiji can say with confidence that he prefers the cold, Bokuto remains a steady and constant source of warmth in his life that he can never seem to mind much.

“Akaashi, we should stop by the shop down the street for some ice creams!” his owlish friend suddenly proposes, effectively breaking Keiji’s train of thought.

“Bokuto-san, this weather isn’t very fitting for ice cream,” he replies. It’s a common occurrence for the two to share popsicles on their walk home, but now the idea of such a snack in these frigid temperatures is enough to make the setter shiver in his thick coat. Bokuto is either very brave or very hungry — or both.

“Yeah, I know. But-“

“And there’s more snow to be expected soon, so we should really head straight home if we want to avoid it.”

Bokuto pouts as he always does when one of his ideas gets shot down with logic. It’s an endearing thing — at least, it is in Keiji’s eyes. “Fine, fine. You’re no fun, ‘Kaashi.”

“I’m simply putting our own safety above your strange food cravings, Bokuto-san,” Keiji hums absentmindedly, readjusting the straps of his school bag as they continue the familiar uphill trek.

Their shoes make soft crunching sounds in the thick layer of snow underfoot and the wintry wind ruffles Keiji’s hair gently. He’s grateful for the gloves and earmuffs protecting him from the worst of the chill.

 _A warm drink sounds much better than an ice cream right now_ , he thinks idly, already beginning to daydream about what kind of tea he might make himself when he gets home.

Bokuto remains silent and lags behind a bit, which is odd. Silence isn’t a lasting thing in Bokuto’s company.

Before Keiji can think anything of it, he’s pelted on the back of the head with snow. The second year whips around in surprise, hardly biting his tongue against a shocked yelp at the icy slush now dripping down his neck, his reverie of warm, sweet tea tarnished.

“Bokuto-san, did you just throw a _snowball_ at me?” Keiji asks rather incredulously. His breath forms a cloud of condensation that soon drifts away into nothing.

Bokuto’s arms hang frozen in the crystallized air, mouth set in a disbelieving, slightly panicked half-grin as if even he cannot fathom what he’s done. It’s rather cute, the dumbfounded expression he gets when he realizes he might’ve just made a big mistake. Keiji’s seen it plenty of times during their games and practices, when one of his spikes veers ever so slightly in the wrong direction.

“I- uh... yes?” the upperclassmen says uncertainly.

Taking advantage of Bokuto’s momentarily paralyzed state, Keiji bends to scoop a pile of snow into his gloved hand. One swift, fluid toss and Bokuto’s left shoulder is dusted in the powdery white substance as well.

“ _Ack_! I wasn’t ready!” Bokuto shouts, though his grin stretches wider as he realizes his setter will play along after all.

“Ah, because I was so prepared myself.”

They go back and forth for a bit, Bokuto squawking in indignation each time Keiji manages to hit him — which is nearly every time. Being an excellent setter has its perks, and to Bokuto’s dismay, you can’t spike a snowball.

“Akaashi, you-“ Bokuto begins after a particularly well-aimed shot to the ear, but he never finishes his sentence. He moves to arm himself with ammunition once more, but in his rush to dash forward he miscalculates the uphill curve and the inch or so of snow caking the ground; he stumbles forward and all but face-plants into the icy white fluff.

Keiji kneels by his side at once to help him up; after all, Bokuto can be quite a clumsy person. It’s never all that surprising when he takes a fall during practice or a race with a classmate through the school’s halls.

As expected, Bokuto is quick to recover. He shoves himself off the ground and onto his knees with enthusiasm and spits a clump of slosh from his mouth. His pale eyebrows and spiked hair (now beginning to droop after hours of keeping its shape) are dotted with tiny flecks of snow, and his cheeks and nose are extra pink from direct contact with the biting cold — though judging by the chilly sting of Keiji’s own face, he can assume he isn’t fairing any better.

All in all, Bokuto resembles a frazzled bird that’s fallen face first into a snowdrift (which is, pretty much, exactly what had happened), and a bubble of affection swells like a balloon in Keiji’s chest. He can’t help but laugh, and he’s quick to cover the escaped giggle with the back of his hand for the sake of Bokuto’s pride.

Not that pride is a huge issue under these circumstances. Normally, Bokuto is able to laugh at himself along with everyone else, all sense of shame and embarrassment nonexistent when it comes to his well-known gracelessness.

But this time, when Keiji opens his eyes, Bokuto isn’t laughing along. He’s not even smiling. On the contrary, he’s staring at Keiji with those owlish honey eyes of his, pupils blown wide; parted lips, jaw hanging open, cheeks glowing an even brighter pink than before. Was that still because of the cold?

Keiji’s heart jumps at the boy’s astonished expression, though he’s lost as to why. Somehow he feels as if he’s been caught doing something wrong, like a child spotted with their hand in a cookie jar.

Maybe it’s because Bokuto is staring at him as if he’s just hung all the stars in the sky, and it catches Keiji off guard.

A lot.

The moment lasts an eternity between them — Keiji’s rare bubble of laughter slowly fading, Bokuto’s gaze pinning him in place, the atmosphere shifting so suddenly it nearly gives the setter whiplash — and then it’s over. Bokuto blinks hard as if to shake himself from a stupor and shoots up from the ground before Keiji can even ask if he’s alright.

”Hah, I’m all good!” Bokuto says anyway, his voice a little too high and his mannerisms a little too exaggerated.

Keiji stands as well, dusting off his legs and wondering what had gotten Bokuto so uncharacteristically flustered. “You really need to be more careful, Bokuto-san,” he chides as he always does.

Bokuto shrugs and kicks at the snow, his demeanor almost shy. “Eh, but you’re always here to help me up, so it’s no big deal.”

A brief hesitation. “...also, you have a nice laugh.”

Keiji glances at his teammate, his friend — no, his _best_ friend, and a tiny smile graces his lips, the compliment weighing pleasantly in his chest.

 _Just like the sun_ , he thinks fondly. “Thank you, Bokuto-san.”

Maybe he prefers the warmth after all.

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading, and please drop a comment, they make me happy :] i’m @/keijuwu on instagram if u wanna chat!


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